To Be Called Beautiful

It's been a long time since I've posted yet again. Lately I've been struggling to write. I want to write so badly, but I just can't. I can't get a clear thought, a clear focus, or anything at all. I can't write stories, songs, or even a regular blog post! Maybe it's the stress, maybe it's just life.
Right now on my mind is beauty. I feel like the prettier I'm getting on the outside, the worse I feel about myself.
I was a quiet kid with very few friends as I grew up. I'm still a bit socially awkward on the making friends level even if I'm a good spokesmodel. I used to be so level headed and smart and I knew what I was doing. Now I still jump for opportunities to do something, but it doesn't feel the same. I'm not as smart or talented as some of my friends and I wasted so much time switching what I want to pursue in life.
There's so much raw emotion swimming in my head that can turn into beautiful music, but there's so much I can't figure out where to start. I feel lost, desperate, and just sick of myself.
It's like having this perfect image, having what everyone wants. I've got good positions in so many clubs. I'm seen as amazing by my advisors and teachers. People consider me to be that person that's always happy and smiley and makes people feel so good about themselves. Boys think I'm beautiful and wonderful and a perfect little angel. But all that doesn't even matter when I know I'm not that perfect person. I'm not perfect, I never will be. I'm just forgiven. I come across as outgoing and friendly and I do love people, but I'm actually shy and I don't mind keeping to myself. I'm not dumb, but I'm not a genius either. I can't say I outright hate myself, but I can't say I'm that crazy about me either. I guess I'm just contentish.
During my underclassmen years, I was so unhappy with myself, I took rather drastic measures. I really hated who I was a majority of the time. Crude comments were thrown at me left and right and I had to live with the verbal abuse of my peers for years.  I wanted change, and I made it happen. If I changed so much, why aren't I happy yet? I loved myself for a while, now I can't stand what I've become. I only get a dark shadow of my younger years, but I've created a monster of myself.
I'm not at the top of my game, but I'm getting better. Someday I'll be happier. I'll be who I want to be with time. I'm just too old go to finding myself now...